Why Must I Be a Finnick in Love
by trollololololol
Summary: Annie was perfectly sane before she met Finnick. How did he manage to change that? Rated for violence, sexual themes, and language. Read and Review!
1. Chapter 1

**I'm very sorry that I never finish stories. I'll finish this one! I swear!**

**Their backgrounds weren't that specific, so I kinda made up their background stories...**

**Sorry if you don't like it.**

**Finnick Odair and Annie Cresta belong to Suzanne Collins**

* * *

I won the games.

_I won the games._

The odds were against me. That was, until I got the trident. Then the mass killing began.

And why did I do it?

To live? To fight? To breathe? But I stole those rights from other people. From other _children_. Children. My 'peers.' My possible friends. Allies. Lovers. Did I need to live that badly? No. There was no one waiting for me if I returned home. Only possibly Mags. But we didn't know each other for that long. She would move on quickly.

The answer floated to the surface of my mind unexpectedly. I had already dismissed the idea that there was someone waiting for me at home. They've been long dead. So why do I have a nagging feeling that I forgot someone?

Because I did. Because it's improbable. Impossible. Inconceivable. No one, I repeat, _no one_ is waiting for me. Not even the beautiful, brown haired girl at the pier. Not even her eyes, that met mine every day at dawn. Not even her ears, that heard me for who I was; a rash young boy, desperate for a way to live, swearing under his breath at the men who believed he was much too young to work.

Seeing her was just a part of the routine I eventually fell into. Wake up. Get dressed. Go to work. See the girl by the pier. Eat lunch. Get off of work. Go home. Eat Dinner. Sleep. Repeat. The routine was simple enough, and I was too focused to make it to another day to wonder why she was a part of it.

But did I kill others, just to see her face? No. Surely not. I'm not that shallow and desperate that I would resort to murdering just to see her face. To see her eyes linger towards mine. To hold that gaze for the slightest second, to confirm that she is indeed there.

I don't even know her name. And she doesn't even know mine. Although I doubt I'm worth anything to her. I'm probably nothing more than just another fisherman, setting out early for the maximum amount of fish possible. But why was she there? Why was she there every day for the past 4 years? Why did she consistently meet my stare? I'm getting too full of myself. She most likely only looked at me because I was abnormally young for a fisher.

Now why was I still alive? Because I could get the necessary amount of sponsors to get a trident? How did I get the sponsors, anyways? I didn't do anything to make myself stand out. I certainly didn't go in with the need to win; I figured it would've been better if my partner had been the one to live. She had a sister and friends. A sister, who I saw crying her eyes out. A sister with brown hair. A sister that strongly resembled the girl on the pier.

When I stepped out of the door, into District 4, I saw her sister. Her sister, whose eyes I did not notice because they were red from crying. Whose eyes reflected the pureness of sea just as they reflected the corruption in my deeds. Whose eyes pierced through me as I realized I stared into them for four years.

* * *

She spoke to me.

She asked me why her sister had to die.

I told her I wish she didn't. I told her I wish I had died in her place.

She called me a liar.

I try to reason with her, but she won't hear it. To her, I will always be her sister's murderer.

* * *

Her name is Annie Cresta. I still see her every day. But now it's for a different reason. Now I feel obligated to see her every day. To talk to her every day. To convince her I'm not heartless every day.

I learn she was close to her sister. Very close. She bursts into tears at the sight of me. There's nothing I can do but attempt to comfort me while she pushes me away and screams curses at me.

Sometimes, she only cries for a short time and I can attempt to talk to her. On one occasion, I ask her where she has learned all of these curse words. She simply looks at me blankly and says, "From you, of course."

Many times, I listen to what she says through her wails, but I don't argue with her. On the contrary, I agree with her. I was responsible for her sister's death. I was useless in my self-appointed role as her protector. Of course, no one knew that I didn't plan to leave alive. I had no one to say good bye to, no one to miss me when I'm gone, so it would be useless if I was the one who lived. So why did I win?

Oh yea, I wanted to see her eyes. I wanted to see her face. I wanted to see her smile. Even though I have most likely gotten rid of any chance of her smiling in front of me. The price for seeing her again was the life of her sister and any sort of happiness she associated with me.

I hate myself. I hate myself. _I hate myself_. Why couldn't I die like I planned? Why couldn't I have stopped my own breath with the trident they gave me? _Why couldn't I protect one girl?_

Because I'm useless. And selfish. And stupid.

The same cycle of thoughts replays in my head as I wait for her to stop crying. Over and over and over.

She tells me to leave, so I do. But there's nothing to do now. No struggle, no work, nothing. Nothing to occupy my mind. So she fills it. Her face, her movements, her tears, but mostly her eyes. Eyes that stare deep into you and probe you and string out your true self for her examination. Her eyes, which I cannot help but think that they're breathtaking, even if I have no right.

And I absolutely have no right. No right to think about how cute she is when she cries. No right to think that I want to hold her and not let go. Bu that's preposterous. She hates my guts. She wants me dead. She wants me gone. Most of all, she wants her sister back.

* * *

The leaves are turning brown. They fall gently from the trees as each one of them silently says goodbye to the trunk that held them close. The slight crinkling of the leaves underfoot brings back memories that I don't want to see. Bones breaking. Skulls crushing. Blood splattered across my body as I realize what I've just done. As I realize that I've thought nothing of killing the other players, just as if I was hunting for fish.

And I think of the lonely girl left standing on the plate. Too absorbed by the sight of lush forest with millions of escape routes around us and the clear blue sky. Too distracted to notice the charging Career, headed straight toward hear with a deadly sword in hand. She only realizes how much danger she's in until after the sword goes through her rib cage, puncturing many vital organs.

I blame myself for not helping her. For not charging at the Career myself with my newly acquired dagger. I knew full well that I could take him and that I could bolt before anyone else could catch me. But I was distracted. I saw some grubby kid hurriedly pick up _my _trident and run off with it. He ran a good distance away until a girl shot him with an arrow. I wanted to run to his body and pry the trident out of his hands. But I knew that the hovercraft would pick up his body before I could reach him in time.

And that left that lonely District 4 girl at the metal plate. Vulnerable to any predator. She was dead within the first five minutes. Her sister most likely crying her eyes out as she watches them replay the scene over and over.

And it's all my fault.

* * *

She knows.

Her eyes see through me. Her beautiful, clear eyes that see everything about me.

She knows that I left her sister to die to linger after an unattainable trident.

Although I did kill her murderer, it would not change what he had done. It may have made it even worse. I'm positive that his family will want my blood, no matter what the cost.

If they want to kill me that badly, I should tell them what it cost me just to see a girl again. I'm sure they would still want my blood, I just want them to know there will most likely be consequences.

Even if I have no one to miss me when I'm gone. No one to cry over my stone cold body. No one to remember me when my body is buried 6 feet under; my tombstone covered with graffiti and slander.

Her body was picked up after the mess at the Cornucopia. If you were to cover the stab wound and add some makeup to cover for her pale face,(which they did,) it would look like she was simply sleeping.

I wish she was sleeping.

I wish they were all sleeping.

I wish she could just wake up and tell her sister that she's back. She's the actually victor, but no one's dead. She didn't have to become a murderer. I would go back to my old job and my old life, and they would live luxuriously in the Champion houses. Although Annie would probably never go to the pier again. I don't think I could stand the tedious days without the thought of seeing her once again.

Am I really that selfish?

The answer is yes. It's always yes to that question.

I am shallow, selfish, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid boy.

Why would anyone want to sponsor me?

* * *

Today, I go to see Annie. Today, the sun shines as if today is supposed to be happy and joyful and wonderful, but instead today is even worse than the others. Today, it is supposed to be her sister's birthday. Today, her sister would've been forever free from the Hunger Games.

She does not even have to see me to break down crying. She is already sobbing as I knock on the door. I wait for her to open the door, because I can hear her labored breathes through the heavy door.

Eventually, she opens the door and I see that she has a cake with a few candles on it. I see that the frosting is wet from tears and the letters were sloppily written. I see that her shaky hands have produced magnificent decorations made of rope, net and fish hooks. And I can finally see her as clearly as she always sees me. She's only a twelve-year-old girl who would give anything for her sister to come back. She's beautiful.

The sight of me lets out all of her tears.

"What are you doing here?" She asks. She does her best to sound like she's ok, like her sister never died, like she could come back at any moment, and she would be here waiting. I'm not fooled. I hear the small gasps of air she has to take in between each word.

I can't answer her. I never can. I only stand there mutely as cries until I think she'll either dehydrate or drown herself in her tears. She curses at me many times, telling me to go away. Usually, I would listen to her and just leave, but today is special. Today she can't be left to wallow in her own misery alone.

When she asks me to leave, this time, she could not lace her words with curses for it was getting harder and harder for her to breathe. This time, I reach out my arms and hold her close. This time, she does not try to slap or scream me away. This time, she lets me hold her until her tears dry.

This time, it is she who apologizes.


	2. Chapter 2

**Sorry for being so slow at updating. I hope you enjoy the next chapter!**

**Finnick Odair and Annie Cresta belong to Suzanne Collins

* * *

  
**

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

She repeats these two words over and over and over. Each time she pronounces a syllable I feel a slight stab of pain. She continues to say those words until her voice becomes hoarse and scratchy. Eventually, I don't even hear her words and just focus on those beautiful eyes that don't avert themselves away from me.

"I know it wasn't your fault. I needed someone to blame. I'm sorry."

This time I hear her speak to me and the stabbing hurts so much worse. It _was_ my fault. She was right in blaming me, but I'm too selfish to say tell her my intentions. To have her hate me even more is excruciating. But to have her live with the guilt of blaming someone who didn't deserve it is unbearable.

"Annie. Stop."

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

Her tears are starting to come back. She should be using that liquid to help her throat.

"Annie. Shut up."

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

She doesn't hear me through her unneeded guilt.

"_Annie. Shut up._"

She stopped apologizing. But now she's looking at me with a horrified look on her face. Does she know what I'm going to tell her? Was this what she was aiming for?

"Annie, I have to confess something. I killed your sister."

With my head held low, I let this information sink into her for a moment. I sneak a glance at her face and see that she's actually _smiling _at me.

"Mr. Odair, don't be stupid. I saw that boy kill her. I saw you kill the boy. You avenged her, not killed her."

She doesn't understand. She thinks I'm lying to her. She thinks I'm actually a good person. How ridiculous.

"You don't understand. I was going to help her. To let her win. To kill the other people and then kill myself. I was going to try to keep her alive. But I let her die. I could've stopped the spear, but I didn't. I let it…" My voice grew quiet as I recalled that warm, sunny day that disguised all the horrible things that happened, "run right threw her." Annie let out a small whimper as she, too, remembered watching the events unfold. "I'm responsible for her death. I killed her."

I waited for the slaps and small punches that would surely come. But instead, I heard crying.

"I hate you."

I expected that.

"But I don't hate you."

Now I'm getting confused.

"I had to either choose between the person I love most, or the person I couldn't help but think about every day since I saw him on the pier. I hate myself for being relieved when she died because at least I didn't have to see you two fight each other. And how do I appreciate your coming back alive? I tell you I hate you. That I wished you had died instead. And I kind of do. But I'm sure that if she was back here, I would have wished that you had not died. That she had. And I can't help but bring out my anger and frustration for being such a horribly ugly person on you. You can't change the fact that she died. You didn't kill her. You avenged her. And I love you for that."

I blush at her last six words. But I shouldn't. Not even when her turquoise eyes stare into them as she drills her words into my heart. I wish she wasn't so frank. I wish she would blame me like she did. And I wish that I could hold her in my arms like I did moments before. But I'm sure that she would hate me and take back her kind words.

But now I feel these strange things streaking down my cheeks. My eyes are constantly blurring and I can't help but furiously blink to see straight. I lightly touch my cheek to see what the thing is, and I find that I have an ocean in my eyes that is currently overflowing. I attempt to wipe my eyes but she softly touches my hand and I immediately freeze.

She quietly speaks to me, "You have let me cry my heart out. It's time for me to let you."

Crying. Is that what it's called? I see. So I am now the one overflowing with emotions that can't be contained by my eyes. Where do I get this extra water? Will I dry out if I cry too much? What do I even have to cry about?

She strokes my cheek and I wonder why she is being so kind. Then I recall her words. _I love you._ My ocean begins to pour out into the real world and I can't stop it. I can't look at her. I can't let her see me in this state. But she tilts my head up and smiles.

Out of nowhere, she takes my cheeks into her hands and stretches them as far as they will go.

"Oh dear, Mr. Odair, what would all your beloved fans say if they saw you like this?" She says, teasingly. I couldn't care less about the selfish Capitol people, it's _her_ I care about.

As if my body were moving on its own, I reach out and take her face into my hands. My head is going to explode as millions of thoughts run rampant in it. There are about a million things I want to do with that lovely, lovely face. I choose an option that won't possibly make me spontaneously combust out of embarrassment and slowly touch her forehead to mine. Damnit. I made the wrong choice. My face is burning up even more than before, and I'm pretty sure that I'm scaring her.

But I don't want to let her go. I don't want to leave her without clearing up what I'm doing. So I whisper a feeble thank you to her and kiss her on the nose. I hoped that she would be satisfied by this and it would explain my actions. But, instead, she seems unsatisfied and as I pull my face away from hers, she suddenly grabs me and pulls me even closer.

"Mr. Odair, I think that in a situation like this, you're supposed to kiss me on my lips."

And of course, I blush. Her statement baffles me, like so many other things today. But I comply, and I lean in toward her, nervous that I'll make a tragic mistake and our relationship will become even worse. Because, of course, this is my first kiss.

I lean in ever so slightly, her lips millimeters away from mine, when she suddenly says, "Is this really how you want our first kiss to go?"

I stutter, our faces still as close as before, "I thought you said that I should kiss you right now!"

She laughs lightly, "I would only want it this way if I didn't have to tell you. Now," she sighs dramatically, "The moment is ruined. Gone. Lost. You'll have to find another time."

She is rather irritating now. First, she orders me to kiss her. Now, she complains that I've lost the moment. To hell with it. If she wants me to kiss her, then I'll kiss her. If she says that this would be our first kiss, that means there are plenty more to come.

And so, against her latter wishes, I subtract the last few milliseconds from the equation and stay there, her lips locked in mine. And now I feel extremely stupid as I look back over the things that just happened.

And now I'm suffocating. How do people breath as they eat each other's' faces? I feel the color draining from my face, but I don't' want to let the 'moment' be gone. I hear her muffled calls for help and I want to slap myself for being so stupid and forcing a kiss onto her. So I separate from her, only now realizing how much I want to stay with her.

"See, you didn't need my orders to do that." She smirks. "Were you trying to kill me by not letting me breath?" Of course she means this as a joke, but she must see the lack of color in my face, only now returning as a bright shade of red.

"I just thought…" I can't complete the sentence. I don't know what I was thinking. So I play around with a few words that don't quite mean anything, hoping she'll realize that I have no idea what I'm talking about.

And she does. She grins and kisses me on the cheek. After she pulls away, I feel the heat now emitting from the spot her soft lips were just touching. Now, I look at her face and see that she, too, is bright red.

"I thought you were so much more experienced in this area," I say, attempting to get back at her for her taunts from before.

"I only know as much as my sister told me!" She exclaims, clearly embarrassed by the thought of having an expertise in such an intimate topic.

"Well you fooled me," I stick my tongue out at her. Why am I doing this? Only moments before, I was 'crying' at the memory of her sister's death. How can I laugh so calmly while her sister lies six feet under?

As if answering my thoughts, Annie looked toward the window and quietly said, "It's nice not to be hung up on others' deaths all the time." And, as if she spotted something alarming on the other side, she quickly looked away and told me, "You should go."

I was hurt. We were finally getting closer, and now she pushes me away. At least I will always have the memory of the day where we weren't so distant.

As I'm about to walk out the door, she calls out to me and holds my face in her hands, her eyes frantically searching for any form of guilt on my face. I smile at her, tilt her head towards mine, and softly kiss her, attempting to relieve her. Knowing that this would probably not be enough, I still did it because… Because… I wanted to.

"I regret nothing."

I hope these words will reach her. That in her dizzy and red state she'll understand what I'm saying. That she'll hear my last three words that I don't have the courage to say while she's thinking clearly.

"I love you."

The volume is almost nothing. I'm sure that even a mouse two feet away would not be able to her my words. Now, I do regret something, I regret saying those words when I'm not even sure about how I feel. Victors aren't supposed to have feelings. Or loves. Or children. Victors are supposed to tower above all else, and now what is best for all. A victor who falls in love is unfathomable. It just isn't supposed to happen.

But now I have. I think. I hope.

Now she's slowly meeting her eyes to mine and her gaze pierces through me. As if she knows exactly what I'm thinking. But a grin quickly grows on her face and she balances on her toes to whisper in my ear.

"No you don't."


	3. Chapter 3

**Thank you for waiting so long! I'm sorry I'm so unproductive... So here's another chapter :D**

"No you don't"

Her words shatter whatever conscious I had had. What does she mean? I _do_ regret something? I_ don't_ love her?

She looks up at me with those amazing eyes and answers the questions in my head.

"No to both."

That clears things up.

"You regret being in that arena. You regret watching people die. You regret killing. And there's no way you could love me."

Even though my mouth was closed, thousands of thoughts were flowing through my mind. What does she mean I do regret things? I have let out all of my wrongdoings. Many times. How can I still regret something? And how can I not love her? She's beautiful. She's kind. She's just _so pretty_. Through this mass tangle of thoughts, I manage to utter a single phrase.

"You're wrong."

She stares at me in disbelief. She thinks she's right on this? She's only twelve. She's bound to be wrong about a lot of thi- _Oh crap she's only twelve. I kissed a twelve-year-old whose sister I killed. What is wrong with me?_

After around a minute, she shook her head in disapproval. Her eyes, clearer than ever, untangled my thoughts, but not before she could say one last thing before I left.

"I'll be here until you change your mind."

I leave baffled. Who wouldn't? I feel like she's toying with my mind, as if she's a small kitten playing with a ball of yarn, tangling and untangling over and over as she bounced it between her paws. The walk between her home and mine was long and quiet. The leaves crunched underneath my shoes and instead of thinking of the arena, I thought of my heart and brain, being crushed by Annie. Strangely enough, it was only my brain that ached, instead of my heart.

Do I actually love Annie? I expected more pain, but there's nothing. Did I say what I said in the heat of the moment? Was Annie actually right?

The cat passes the ball between its front paws. Back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth.

How am I supposed to know how I feel if she just keeps playing?

- Time passes -

It's been almost four years since I've talked to Annie. Well, not necessarily talked to her, I've seen her occasionally when I've been in town and made small talk, but nothing substantial. Tomorrow is the day of the reaping. Annie's name will be in it 14 times. Small compared to others, but still higher chances than most. She shouldn't be reaped. It's almost impossible. And no, I don't still think about her constantly. Annie Cresta does not occupy my thoughts every waking moment. Just once every hour.

Annie's birthday passed quite a while ago. She would be sixteen this year. I have heard that many guys around her love her, but only for her looks. She has not let anyone see her true personality for four years. Well, almost four years.

Today, I decide to see her again. To attempt to get to know her again. To tell her that she was right all along. The walk to her house seems familiar, even though I haven't walked down the path for so long. Though there is no crunch of the leaves, my head aches with each step I take.

I stood in front of the door, speechless at the state the once homely house had been. Now, it's uncared for, dirty, trash everywhere. How could such a lovely girl come from such a dump?

The door creaked open, as if beckoning me in. I hesitated for a moment, but slowly stepped into the heart of the mess.

The inside of the house is similar to the outside, except in here, there were more clothes and things lying around. The dining table was littered with moldy food and remnants of homework from long ago. The walls had various writings on it, from math equations, to essays that seemed to jump from one idea to another without warning. I attempted to read some of the writings, but I soon realized that the only variable that was used for math was either _f_ or _a_, and all the writings seemed to contain my name somewhere in the essay.

"Who's there!" a voice shrieked. It had not changed in almost four years.

"Finnick," I call back, attempting to keep my voice devoid of emotion.

I waited for her to respond, but she did not. I only heard various shuffling and crashing in another room while I assume she was attempting to get herself ready to make an appearance.

"Um, dear Finnick, do you mind not looking for a bit? I seemed to have forgotten my clothes in the living room," her voice was shaky, and I could just imagine how nervous she was. For some reason, I could feel my face heating up.

Even though she told me to look away, I could not tear my eyes away from the door where her voice had come from. She steadily stuck her head out, to see if I was really looking away. I prepared myself for her verbal lashing. It came.

"You suck."

A lovely, lovely statement from the girl who might die in the next couple days.

"Turn around. Now."

I continued to disobey her.

"I hate you."

Awesome. Just awesome. Well, I deserve I have not come to talk to her for so long. But it was not my fault! I could not tell what was real and what was not due to her incessant toying with my mind.

She went inside and rummaged through her room for a few minutes before she stuck her head out again. This time, her arm came out too, and she pulled out a shoe. It was tattered and old, but I imagine that it would be effective for the job she wished it to do. Too bad that she doesn't seem to remember that I won the Hunger Games.

"Turn around or else I'm throwing this at you."

Just as I expected. I stood still, waiting for her to throw it. I don't actually know why I'm defying her, I only know that I don't want to miss a single second that could include in it.

She threw it. She actually has pretty good aim, and I planned on evading her attack, but I just stood there helplessly as the shoe hit me square in the chest.

Her face started to turn red and she avoided my gaze. "Just let me change."

Now I feel horrible. I've been making her feel uncomfortable time for my own selfish reasons. To her relief, I finally turned around while she said a quiet thank you and tripped over a pile of something. I was tempted to help her up, but that would include seeing her indecently. She got up without my help, but moaned slightly in pain.

"Why would you let a man be inside the same room as you changed?" I asked, curious.

"You're not a man. You're a sex symbol," she replied. I'm a sex symbol? I've only been seen a couple times, and not enough to be recognized year after year.

I have no comeback, and can only stare dumbly when she tells me it's ok to turn around. "How would you know?" it seems that she leaves me without wit, just as before.

"Oh please, who _doesn't_ know. The people in the Capitol love you. They're waiting for the day they can 'love' you without being creeps. You don't understand how many girls would do anything for you." I expected her to include heavy sarcasm the entire time. But she told me all of this as calmly as possible.

"And what about all those guys that would fall head over heels for you? Don't pretend you haven't noticed." It seems my wit had returned. "If there was a beauty pageant, all the men would vote for you as number one every time."

"Even you?" she asked.

"_Especially_ me. I would be there screaming your name for everyone to hear. If you weren't number one, I would take my trident and find whoever it was that was dumb enough not to vote for you." This was a strange question. I thought she didn't care about any of those things.

She grabbed my face in her hands and asked me, with such clarity, "Why did you come here today?"

My face immediately burned up, as the memory of _that day _resurfaced. I stuttered out an incoherent response that even I don't understand the meaning of. Why must my wit leave me at the most important times?

Her grip on my face relaxed, and she rested her hands in her lap. I tried to blurt out a response, but I ended up asking why she had written so much on her walls. She turned red as she thought about the prospect of me seeing all the times she wrote my name, but I could see in her eyes that she quickly dismissed the thought. Does she think me too careless to not notice the flurry of _f_'s?

"So," I attempted to say casually, "why do you use _f_ so much? And, you know, why does this same name keep appearing?" Can she that my face was completely red? Can she tell that I had been thinking about her just as much?

"What's wrong with the letter _f_, Mr. Finnick?" her face was many levels of red now. "And as for the same name appearing, it just seems to be in my head all of the time." She quickly covered her own mouth, but it did not stop me from hearing her words.

I oh so casually tilted her head up with my forefinger, smirking at the sight of her red face. "Unless I'm mistaken, I must be the Finnick that seems to be forever haunting you." Her eyes avert away from my face. Her face is burning hot.

"You are mistaken." Again, with the three little words. Yet, disappointed as I was before, I tilted her face back down. But, unlike before, there seems to be a dull pain in the upper mid-left area of my chest. At least I don't _think_ the pain was there before.

She quickly pins me against a wall and looks directly into my eyes, though her redness has yet to fade. "The Finnick that is invading my mind is the one that has yet to tell me I'm right. If he would simply admit that, then maybe the pain in my heart would go away."

I chuckled. "Stupid, stupid girl. That Finnick is still here." I grabbed her waist twirled her so that I could dip her like they do in those very old movies from long ago. "But he's never going to tell you you're right." I hesitantly pressed my lips against hers as I waited for her to slap me. But she didn't. She ran her fingers through my unruly hair and let me keep kissing her. It was embarrassing, really. To be kissing her so shamelessly. But the heart wants what the heart wants.

When I finally let her go and brought her back to her feet, her face seemed to be as hot as a hot spring. Perhaps even hotter.

"Just the answer I was expecting." She looked triumphant. "It took you four years, but you finally got here." Had she reached this point long before?

She let me go with just a kiss on the cheek. I would have to prepare for the long day tomorrow.

Please, god, do not let Annie be picked as the tribute.

- Next Day -

The mayor drones on as he does every year. I catch Annie's eye, and that cheers up my whole day. I can't bear the thought of mentoring yet another child, and having them die before my eyes. It's too cruel.

Now, it's time for the reapings. Please, please, please, god. Do not let Annie be picked. She's been through far too much.

The escort makes a show of attempting to pick a tribute. There's the way she dresses, the way she talks, the way she thinks of it as a big game. It is simply ridiculous.

She sighs dramatically and finally pulls out one slip. I stare in absolute horror for the few seconds before she announces the name, for I can see it form my place on stage.

The name called out to the horrified men and women of district four is Annie Cresta.

God must hate me.


	4. Chapter 4

**Two chapters in two days? Wow. I'm actually being productive. :D Thanks to Estrunk for pointing our the loophole!**

Damn the Capitol.

Damn them all.

Why was Annie, out hundreds of girls, picked? This is too coincidental. There must be a reason behind it. I must speak with President Snow. If he'll let me.

I didn't pay attention to who else was called, despite the fact that I would be mentoring them. I was too absorbed in my own thoughts to give a damn. It doesn't matter to me whether or not he was the most likable person on the face of the planet. I owe Annie too much to let her die. Like I let her sister.

The reaping ended without much tension except for those who remember her sister. I attempted to hide my emotions until I was able to get back home. The moment I stepped inside, there was something very_, very_ wrong.

Everything seemed a bit too clean and it smelled a bit too much like roses for my tastes. I preferred the smell of the sea.

I treaded lightly, preparing for whoever was waiting for my on the other side of the wall that separated the living room and the grand foyer. With each step I took, the smell grew stronger and stronger until I was practically gagging on the stench. Why would anyone want to use such a horrible perfume?

My question was quickly answered when I swiftly turned around to see the face of President Snow. I could almost see the stench of roses emitting from his very being. This is the man who rigged it so Annie would be chosen. At least, I believe he did it. It was too strange to be coincidental.

"I'm sure you probably realized this, but I had rigged it. There was no other name in there except for Annie Cresta." He told me this incredibly calmly. He focused on twirling a pure, white rose in between his fingers. Each twirl was perfectly calculated, probably after much experience of twisting the fate of many underserving people. "It was becoming troublesome. You with her, her as the sister of your fellow tribute, the thousands of girls in the capitol left heartbroken. They would pay good money for you. You're a sex symbol, you know."

"I've been told," I mustered the harshest glare I could. It wasn't hard.

"I figured it would be best if you had no connections left. That way it would be easier for you to let yourself be taken by the Capitol. Those vain, stupid people, they'll give all of their life savings for you. Too bad we had to wait so long until we could start selling your body. You'll still be you, of course. It's not like we'll be ridding you of your mind, but your body will no longer be yours. It'll belong to whoever is willing to pay the price." I'm sure he has been thinking about this for years. Ever since I was lifted from that horrible arena and the doctors decided my body was still intact, along with all of my facial features.

I want him to take it back. Undo it. Force someone else to be the tribute. Never let Annie be forced into the games. But it's too late. She's in for good.

"At least make sure that I'm sold for a high price. I'd rather not be some cheap slut," I didn't expect to say this to the president of Panem, but I don't regret it.

"We didn't plan to," for some reason, the mischievous smirk that seems to be endearing on Annie feels creepy when plastered on Snow's face. I can't seem to wrap my mind around the fact that I will be a bought and paid for sex doll. What could cause these people to be ok with buying people to fill themselves up with good feelings? Oh, well, this comes from the same people that enjoy watching small children slaughter each other for entertainment.

I leave quickly from my own house to avoid smelling more of the dreaded rose perfume. Before, the smell of roses reminded me of Annie, but now it will just remind me of this dreadful day and the person who is behind the ruining of mine and Annie's life.

I walked briskly to the Justice Building to speak to Annie, but a rather buff peacekeeper attempted to keep me from speaking to her. His efforts were futile.

After punching the lights out of the guard, I cautiously step into Annie's room. Her room is in shambles. It's only been about an hour, what could she have done in that time? These thoughts leave as quickly as they come and I notice that Annie is lying unconscious on the floor with blood seeping from a cut on her wrist. I panic, of course, and pick her up in my arms and set her on the bed, and then I go outside to find a bandage or something. By the time I come back with a bandage, she's conscious but deathly pale. She looks up at me with tears in her eyes and I just silently cover her cut. I don't want to ask why she did this. I think I already know.

"I know I'm going to die in there. At least like this I can choose when I die," she says this quietly while I'm looking away. I'm determined to not let her die, whether it is by someone else in the arena or by her own hands.

"You're not going to die. I'll make sure of it," I try to sound reassuring, but I think I'm just making her panic more.

"Finnick. Look at me," despite her loss of blood, she was able to sound as assertive as she usually does. "I'm going to die. I'm going to die in the arena. There's no helping it. If you need my will, it's scrawled on the wall of my home."

So that's what that was. Though I wonder why she wrote my name so much.

"There's not even anyone to send me off. If I die, no one will care. It's better for the other tribute to win. He actually has family. He has friends. If he cries, people will cry. If I die, I'll just be that nameless tribute in the 70th Hunger Games." She says this so calmly and coldly that it makes me scared to death. I don't care what she says. I will not let her die. Of course, if I tell her this, she will resist my help. Why can't she just want to live like a normal person?

"I will care. I will cry. I will miss you every second you are gone. Who are you to say that I won't?" This is only a fraction of what I want to say, but it's the most that I can get out for now. I don't want her to go. I don't want her to leave. I don't want her to die.

It's time for me to leave. To let the next person in. I hold her face in my hands are try to absorb as much of those sea-green eyes as I possibly can. I try to kiss her on the nose but at the same time she attempts to kiss me on the nose, too. Somewhere, as we try to kiss each other on the nose, we end up kissing on the lips. I immediately pull away, but I see that she looks disappointed.

Of course, I blush and kiss her on the forehead. Then, I dash as fast as I can away from her room, noticing on my way out that the next person to speak to her has a bouquet of roses and is blushing furiously. The first thing that pops into my head is the grotesque image of President Snow. The second is the thought that the boy might be confessing his love for Annie. Oh lovely. I have known competition now.

I decided to go to the train before the tributes came. They'll be fewer cameras then. They won't see my desperation. They won't see my horror at the thought that I'm being sold as soon as I step into the Capitol. Half-way there, I realize my virginity is going to be stolen by a complete stranger. Damn them. They can have my body, but not my virginity.

I run back to Annie's room in the Justice Building and tell the kid in there to scram. From the look on his face, I could tell that he had been rejected anyway.

Annie was shocked by my sudden entering her room, but I didn't care. They wouldn't let any cameras in the tribute rooms. The goodbyes were personal, not to be seen by others. Perfect. Without saying anything, I slammed the door behind me and quickly walked to Annie.

I looked down at her. She was thoroughly scared. But I calmed my fierce gaze a bit before grabbing her and passionately kissing her. I'd rather not indulge the next part.

-Time Passes-

We're on the train and Annie can't even look at me but I don't care. It needed to be done. I'm ready to go to the Capitol and become their pawn. Their sex doll. Their dirty prostitute.

I'm lying. I'll never be ready.

Every year, I love the food but hate watching the kids die. Most of the time I just hide in my room and ask for updates every so often. But this year I need to focus my full attention on the Games and try my best to keep her alive. I wish I could sponser her myself, but that is considered cheating. And if I did, then the gamemakers would probably try their best to kill Annie.

The train ride is long and unnerving. I exchange awkward glances with Annie every so often and attempt to make nice with the other tribute, even though I will be trying my best to make sure he dies so Annie will live.

By the time we reach the Capitol, all conversation between any of us is lost. Our dinners are silent and awkward. We leave almost immediately after we each finish our meals, attempting to stagger our time so none of us have to walk together to our rooms. On the last day of our train ride I'm forced by Mags and our escort to ask how they would like to be trained.

I don't understand why I must ask them. It would be just the same if Mags asked them, although they might not be able to understand what she is saying.

I gather everyone into the dining room and force out a few words as an attempt as a conversation starter and get to the real point. I manage to ask without meeting Annie's intense stare. The people watching through the cameras would just interpret it as her trying her best to survive. If I stared back, that would just be strange, and might cause Snow to want Annie to die so much more.

To my surprise, Annie asked for separate training immediately.


	5. Chapter 5

**Oh.**

**My.**

**God.**

**I actually updated. :D**

**Finnick Odair and Annie Cresta belong to Suzanne Collins  
**

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"So…"

"So."

It was nothing short of awkward. There was nothing that I could say that would lessen the tension.

"Let's just cut the bullshit, Mr. Odair." She spoke bluntly, as if she knew exactly what was going to happen to her in the next few days. "I know what's going to happen in that arena. I know that I'm going to die. At least there's no one to mourn my lifeless body when they send it back in a crate like they sent my sister's."

I had never seen a tribute with such resolution. To go in and know that you won't come back alive, and still be okay with that? It was nearly impossible to find such a tribute. They all either went in desperate, clinging onto some pathetic hope that they would be the one to win, or overly confident, believing that death was not an option. I was, of course, the first type.

Annie looked at me with a playful smirk. "Since I'm not coming out alive, I should probably try to kill as many tributes before they kill me." The words spilling out of her mouth were horribly morbid for such a pretty, innocent face.

"Don't." I barely choke out the words. It's hard for me to not be speechless, considering the situation I'm in. "Don't kill the tributes." I begin to walk toward her and place my hand on her cheek. "Don't become tainted. Don't let the games suck you in. Don't let the Capitol change you. Don't become their pawn. Just, don't."

She gently pushes my hand aside. "There's nothing I can do to stop from becoming their pawn. From the moment my name was picked, I became their toy. Their plaything." _No,_ I thought to myself_, you were their pawn from the moment I walked into your home, attempting to comfort you. _"The most I can do to try to defy them is to break the rest of their toys."

"But don't you see that that's playing right into their hands!" I was beginning to feel angered and trapped. I wish I could just grab Annie and run far, far away from the Capitol, from the districts, from everything. We could live together in the woods. Only the two of us. We could do it. But, sadly, we were too far into the games to run away now. There were far too many watching. One wrong move and I would guarantee Annie's death in the arena. "Annie. You're not going to die. I won't let it happen."

Her playful smirk was wiped off of her face, "I thought I said that we would stop the bullshit, Mr. Odair."

"Why must you call me 'Mr. Odair'! I'm only two years older than you! Are you mocking me? Do you want me to call you 'Ms. Cresta'? Do you want me to love you or not? What do you want me to do!" I was beginning to become desperate. "Please, just tell me," I pleaded to her.

I looked up to see how she took my outburst, and strangely, she was crying. It wasn't the loud, whining, and gasping for air kind that I was so used to hearing, but instead she was silently crying, the tears quickly streaking down her face and it seemed like she was trying to hold back her tears, although unsuccessfully.

"I don't know what I want you to do. I don't know what I want at all. I'm only sixteen!" she stood up as she said this, her voice rising with each syllable she enunciated. The next part she added in a very feeble voice, "I just want to see my sister again." She collapsed into a heap on the floor, tired from this seemingly long conversation even though it had only been a couple minutes. Now, she let her tears freely flow and whimpered slightly every few seconds.

I kneeled down next to her, and attempted to comfort her by placing my hand onto her shoulder. It was incredibly awkward, seeing as that I'm an incredibly awkward person and the situation itself was just strange. She responded to my touch with a slight recline, but she didn't fully protest my patting, so I gently picked her up and held her in my arms until her crying subsided.

"Why do you do this to me?" Annie whispered. As usual, she left me completely clueless.

"I have no idea what you mean," I seemed to say this to her hair, but I was sure that she could hear me.

She abruptly untangled herself from my arms and fiercely stared into my eyes. "You know exactly what I mean. You play with my head. You tell me you love me, and then you ignore me for four years. And just when I finally accept that you hate me, you barge into my house for no apparent reason and sweep me off my feet just like before. And now, you yell at me, tell me that you're going to keep me alive when I know that you're just begging for me to die so you can move on with your life." She took a deep breath. "I just want to know what your actions mean and not to be thrown off by your many, _many_ mixed signals." Her point of view from what I've done the past four years baffles me. I had no idea how the situation looked from her point of view. I just selfishly based her feelings from the very few things I observed about her.

I began adlibbing the next thing I would say to her. "First of all, I'm sorry. Wait, what do I have to be sorry for? Forget that, I'm sorry. OK, I need to stop apologizing. Now I'm getting off track, where was  
I? Right, I'm sorry. I have no idea how to explain how I feel about you. Sometimes, you infuriate – is that the right word?- to no end, and other times you baffle me with the amount of stuff – maybe not stuff – that you have to say about any subject. But, I can say for sure that I don't hate you, or dislike you. I'm not sure whether my feelings toward you are infatuation or love, the difference is unclear in my mind, but either way it is not a negative feeling – unless you hate being loved, and I'm not sure how you feel about that," The longer I talked, the less coherent and confident my sentences would be. Annie was starting to look very confused and trying to sort out what I am trying to say. "My main point is that I feel positively towards you, and I did not mean to send so many mixed signals." I sighed in relief, I have absolutely no idea what I had just said, but I hope that it made some sort of sense.

She stared at me in utter disbelief. I knew it. I didn't make any sort of coherent sense. "What the hell was that?" She began laughing at my confused state. "I know you were pouring your heart out and everything, but when you start stuttering and become awkward, it's too cute for me to stand." She spent the next few minutes laughing at my frozen awkward state. "But I feel the same way about you." She wiped tears from her eyes. "Why must we change moods so quickly? We start out award, then angry, and then know we are awkward again. Only 30 minutes has passed before I stepped into this room and we started talking again. Now, since you're so stubborn and want to have me make it out of the arena alive, we should probably start talking about what I'll do in there."

My mouth hung open for a few seconds before I regained control of myself. "Are you sure you're not going to give up in there?" She nodded slightly. "Great. First of all, you must _not_ try for the Cornucopia, under any circumstances. Just run from there as fast as you can. You are not to participate in the bloodbath. If you do, you will be overtaken by the Careers and you will no doubt die." She was listening to my rant while nodding, as if she could fully understand what I was saying. "Second, you must find water. If you don't, you will die within a few days. Make sure to hydrate yourself and put on some extra weight that you can lose in the arena. Finally, you are to avoid contact with any other tributes. _Any_ of the tributes. If you do not follow my instructions, you will have as much tougher time than needed."

"Since you're telling me all this and you're determined to have me live, I'm assuming that you're secretly planning to sacrifice Dylan?" She said, calmly.

"Who's Dylan?" I had never heard this name before.

"The other tribute. You know, the boy you plan on letting die in order to keep me alive." She looked at me, horrified. To have such a detail slip my mind was apparently a terrible thing. I have never quite paid attention to who I have been mentoring for the past couple years. Although, it's too bad that none of them are alive now.

"Oh. Yes. I do plan on letting him die in order for you to live. I would do anything to keep you alive, even if I were to die myself." I say this as sincerely as I can. And I really would sacrifice anything for her. But not because I love her. Instead, it's because I owe her. I can't let her die.

She quickly changes the subject before I start professing my love to her again. "What else should I do while I'm in the arena?"

I give her a flurry of advice that I doubt she understands. I try to educate her on every possible situation that could occur in the arena, which is literally everything. I attempt to recall what has happened in all the past games, but my memory is somehow a bit fuzzy from all the events that have happened in the past couple days.

- Time Passes –

The two hours passed far more quickly than I originally thought it would. It seemed to go by in such a flash that I wish I was with Annie even though I was just with her a few minutes ago.

"So…"

"So."

This time, there was none of Annie's spunk to break the awkward silence. There were no tearful apologies, no angry rants, nothing but awkward silences and few words.

"I know you don't care about me."

Oh look. Apparently he does have some spunk.

"I know you plan on letting me die so you can get Annie out of the arena." Am I really that obvious? I thought I was hiding my plan pretty well.

"No, no, no, no. I wasn't planning on doing that." I try to convince him that I actually am trying to keep him alive, but I'm a poor actor. I'm pretty sure that he could see right through me. "I don't want you to die in the arena, Derek."

"My name is Dylan." Damn. I thought that I had finally learned another tribute's name for once. "You don't even plan on learning my name before I die, are you?"

"Of course I'll learn your name, Dylan! See, I already know your name, and I am going to try to keep you alive." I feel horrible, lying to him like this. It seems like that I am actually convincing him, but that just makes me feel so much worse. This tribute is going to die, thinking that I actually tried my best to keep him alive.

"Well, I would want Annie to win anyways. I know it seems cliché, but I actually have a crush on her." He adverted his eyes and his face turned incredibly red. I know it's wrong, but I felt jealous of this boy who would be able to protect Annie from everyone else. I wanted to be able to sacrifice myself for her, but I had already tried to do that to her sister. It's possibly that I would mess up again and let another one of the sister's die. "Even if you plan on keeping me alive, I would still sacrifice myself for her if it came down to the two of us." _I wish I could do that_, I selfishly think to myself.

The rest of the two hours pass with me giving Dylan the same advice as I gave Annie, but I only put half of my heart into attempting to educate him on the ways of the Hunger Games.

- Time Passes –

When we first enter the Capitol, I'm immediately pulled away from Annie and Dylan and taken to my first client. I don't want to do this, but there's nothing I can do to stop it.

When I finish my job, I find out that my client is one of the gamemaker's for this year and I try to coax some secrets out of her. It turns out that it's not very hard to do.

She told me that they plan to bring the tributes to a bowl like valley, with the main source of water as a pond at the bottom. She went on to explain the variety of traps that would be included in order to make the games as interesting as possible. I doubt Annie would be able to escape any of them. She tells me that if the games go on for too long, they plan on flooding the arena.

"You know, you're such a beautiful boy," she says, taking my face into her wrinkly old hands.

_And you're an old hag who would pay a small fortune to be able to sleep with me first._

"If you weren't so damn lovey-dovey with your tribute, I would try to keep you all to myself." She dramatically sighs. "Maybe I should just arrange it so that Annie Cresta dies in the arena and pay the president - Agh!" I start to choke her as soon as I hear that she wants to kill Annie. My hands squeeze together tighter and tighter, until she literally can't breathe and is turning blue. She finally manages to get me off by kneeing me where it hurts. "Learn to respect your elders!" She spits in my face.

After managing to get more air back into her lungs, she shrieks reproachfully, "You can guarantee Annie Cresta as good as dead!"

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**hahahaha... so bad at cliffhangars :'D**

**I'm not gonna try to promise when the next update will be, but I'll try to do it as soon as possible!  
**


	6. Chapter 6

**It's taken me a long time to write this chapter, but I have no excuses.**

**This chapter has more sexual themes than the other chapters, so if you're sensitive to that, I'm sorry! **

**The Hunger Games belong to Suzanne Collins ;-;  
**

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Finnick was throughly annoyed with the woman whose bed he was intruding. She had already managed to have her way with him, divulge Capitol secrets, and threaten who he believes is the love of his life. All within an hour. He couldn't possibly be more irritated. Until, of course, she told him more secrets that could get her hanged or shot or drawn and quartered (Finnick was personally okay with any of them, especially drawn and quartered).

"We're rigging it this year, you know. The games, I mean" she spoke to herself, possibly hoping that Finnick was sound asleep at the time, though it was highly doubtful seeing as he had just attempted to choke the life out of her. "I'm going to be the one behind those controls for most of the time this year, and I can assure you that I'll be rigging it so that my tribute will win. I mean, I'll still make it interesting, of course, but they'll be the one to end up winning. And if they don't, I plan on flooding the arena for all its worth." Is she stupid? Does she want to get killed? Os she aware that Finnick is mainly just a lifeless sex doll that will absorb any secrets that you will tell him? She is almost begging to be choked again.

"I already paid the Capitol a fortune so that I could be the one to deflower you." A smug grin was crawling across her face. 'You old hag,' Finnick thought to himself. 'You're money has gone to waste since you were not the one to 'deflower' me. Annie was.' "I've got to say, it was worth it. You are quite the beast when it comes to sex." Finnick wanted to run away. He didn't give two shits about customer service, he just wanted to be out of there. "You know, as a gamemaster, I'm sure I could arrange a few, oh I don't know, chance meetings? We could meet inside of a broom closet, and just go wild." She was definitely talking to herself. If she was actually trying to talk to him, she should know better than to try to score a freebie. If it weren't for the death threats imposed on Annie, he wouldn't dare step foot in the same room as a hag as disgusting as this.

After she didn't get the immediate 'yes' she was expecting, the hag sighed and decided to take a nap. Right on top of Finnick. He inwardly groaned to himself when he thought of ideas that would allow him to escape this hideous bedroom without waking his so-called 'bed-mate.' He entertained the thought of waking her up for a supposed 'Round 2' and telling her that it would be much kinkier. Once she agreed, and who wouldn't, he would then go into the bathroom, pop the glass out of the window, and get the hell out of there; but he knew it was much too impractical and risky.

After what seemed like an inordinate amount of time, a phone began ringing and the gamemaker lazily got up to go answer it. Finnick almost immediately saw his chance to escape and took it while he could. He left behind a handwritten note saying how he woke up and found that she was gone and he had no choice but to leave. He knew that she would realize it was complete bullshit, but he hoped that his sexyness had swayed her enough so she wouldn't care. Though, his sexyness was probably negated by the choking and what not.

As soon as he stepped foot outside the building, he was mauled by news reporters and cameras. He would feel honored and embarrassed, but all he could think about of the time is what the hell Annie and the other tribute were doing. Although he had promised to learn the guy's name, he honestly couldn't bring himself to care enough. The guy was going to die, and Annie was going to live. End of that. If emotional bonds were made, it would just make it so much harder on the two of them, especially if the guy figured out that Finnick didn't give two shits about him in the middle of the bloodbath or some other form of life or death fighting. Well, it's always life or death in the arena.

Finnick decided his best bet to finding Annie would be in the Game Center. The tributes weren't allowed out of there except for special occasions for all of the three days that they are in the Capitol. The chariot rides would be starting soon, and Finnick could not afford to miss them. If the audience saw an empty seat where a caring, confident mentor was supposed to be, that would just be down right horrifying. He thought of all the repercussions for being late, usually they would include death, but come on. He's Finnick Odair. They wouldn't dare get rid of this sexy beast. They could, however, get rid of Annie, and Finnick was not prepared to let that happen.

He assumed he would not need to go see a stylist for a special costume, seeing as he was not a tribute this year, but he decided it would be good if he were to check up on his tributes. He started, of course, with Annie.

"Hello, dear ladies. How are we doing in here?" He tentatively peeked his head through to see what exactly what was happening. His face was met with a brush. When he was released of his confusion, he looked up to see a furious Annie and her stylist, also a woman. It took a minute for him to realize that Annie was attempting to cover herself with her hands, though unsuccessfully. A smirk quickly appeared on his face. "I doubt you were this embarrassed a moment ago when it was just your stylist looking at you."

She replied with a simple, "I was."

"Oh, Miss Cresta, why does my presence make a difference? Just carry on with what you're doing, I'll just stand in a corner taking pictures." She gasped at this statement and fervently attempted to cover herself up more. How cute.

"I don't know, Mr. Odair." Here comes the sarcasm. "Maybe it's the fact that you're a perverted creepy sex idol, or maybe it's because I just don't like you. Maybe it's a combination of both." She was rolling her eyes as she said this. "But you just creep the shit out of me." Finnick could only grin in response.

"Why don't you let him in? Another opinion, especially from a sex idol, is greatly welcomed," her stylist said. _Damn, I like this woman,_ Finnick thought to himself. _But not how I like Annie, of course. Look at her all flustered. She's so adorable I could just run up and hug her right now. But that, sadly, would constitute sexual harassment._ "My name is Tigris. I was thinking that we could go with a mermaid, for Annie. Imagine how beautiful that would be." Somehow, Annie's face became even redder, but Finnick was too deep in Imaginationland to notice.

-Finnick's Imaginationland-

"Oh, Finnick, stop it!" Annie cried out, in playful way. Finnick was tickling Annie for all he's worth and having fun doing it. Her large mermaid tail was flapping up in down as Annie attempted to control herself. Annie had long, flowing brown hair that reached her hips. There were various braids in her hair that implied a sort of fish scale texture. She had a seashell bra, as all mermaids do, with seashells dyed sea green in order to match her eyes and tail. Oh, her tail. It sparkled in the light and at certain angles, could be almost any color in the spectrum. She was absolutely breathtaking, and she knew it. Yet, she stayed with Finnick because Finnick, in this world and all other Imaginationland world, was a god. But not just any god, a 'sex' god. Well, **the** sex god. The one every girl yearned for, yet only one could have. He taught his abilities to the good people of the world, but none were as good as he.

On their sex cloud, Finnick laid with Annie, just looking up at the sky. He thought about how it paled in comparison to her, and decided to voice his opinion to her. She blushed and playfully slapped his chest, looking up for a second and then turning away. Finnick noticed, and tilted her head to his and gave her a sweet, gentle, long kiss. All was right.

And then they sexed each other.

-Finnick's Imaginationland End-

_Damn, I'm a horny little boy,_ Finnick thought to himself. _Well, I do have to sex Annie up in order to get the taste of hag out of my mouth. I wonder whether or not I could do it without technically raping her this time..._

The stylist and Annie looked thoughtfully at Finnick, who was lost in his own world. They wondered what was going on in that pretty head of his, but they soon gave up after the hundredth possibility. "So, mermaid?" the stylist asked hopefully.

"Of course, it sounds amazing" Annie replied, imagining an image similar to Finnick's, except without all the sex. But somehow, Finnick managed to invade her Imaginationland.

-Annie's Imaginationland-

The waters were harsh. There would be a storm soon, but Annie had no shelter. Wait, what was she talking about? She's a mermaid, she **always** has shelter. She dived down into the waters, but quickly came up as she realized that the water she was currently swimming in was poisoned and would kill her if she breathed too much of it. Just taking one breath in the poisoned water caused her to cough up blood.

She had not choice but to attempt to find a cave or something. One little problem, she was no where close to land. The closest thing to her was a pirate ship, and she knew that if she tried to take cover there, she could guarantee that she would be sold the next day.

She looked up at the ship, hoping that it would turn unto a nice ship within the blink of an eye, and she would be able to board the ship. But she noticed a handsome man, looking solemnly over board, as if searching for something.

He was very handsome. He had tanned, smooth skin and orange-ish, brown-ish hair. His hair was a bit long. his bangs ending somewhere between his eyes and his eyebrows, but the look worked on him. He wore a simple handkerchief on his head, but he sighed sadly and took it off, showing off even more of his amazing hair. he wore a simple white short, and she could not what kind of pants he was wearing, but she concluded it looked equally good on him. His eyes were a to die for green, and every inch of him screamed sexyness. Annie wanted to just touch him, to feel him, but he was a pirate and that would spell her imprisonment.

She just looked up at him for minutes, silently hoping he would notice her and would simply speak to her, to maybe even hug her. She didn't dare to want more. Wanting more would just bring even more disappointment. But he did notice her. When he noticed, he quickly looked left and right, seeing if anybody was watching him. He walked away from banister, looking for something. On the other side of the ship, she heard a slight splash and some more after that. She wondered what was causing the splashing until she noticed that the handsome pirate was coming around the corner. She fervently looked around her, searching for something to hide her, she entertained the thought of diving under water and holding her breath, but she's never been strong in that area. She eventually gave up and let him row to her.

"You do realize that if it were anyone but me, you would be in a fish tank right now," he told her. _Thank god_, she thought, _at least I'm not going to become a slave right now. But, what is he doing down her then?_ "I came here to help you escape the wrath of my shipmates. I know what you're thinking, why would I have suck jackasses as shipmates, but it's only because it was the only way I could escape slavery." She decided that he was trustworthy enough to speak to. Besides, she really wanted to touch that smooth, smooth skin.

"I'm still here only because I don't know how to find shelter from the incoming storm" she explained to him. "If it weren't for that, I would be gone within a blink of your eye. I'm kinda stuck here."

"Well, why don't you come on board?" He genuinely asked. "I'll hide you from my shipmates." She pondered whether or not he could be trusted to not turn her in. Mermaids are worth a lot of money. Especially to human perverts. Eventually, she decided to trust him.

He helped her up the ladder and came up first, checking if the coast was clear. He told her that it was dinner, and he came out because he was thinking about something. He said that they were probably still eating, and now would be the best time to go to his room and wait. When she asked him how she would manage to walk across the deck, he promptly picked her up bridal style and ran across the deck, down the stairs, and into his room. He explained that he didn't have a roommate because his shipmates believed he was 'slave filth.' "That's horrible," Annie cried out, but the pirate quickly hushed her.

"Oh, I never realized, we haven't introduced ourselves yet," the pirate said. "I'm Finnick." He stuck out his hand for her to shake.

"My name is Annie," she said, imitating his motion. but not shaking his hand.

He laughed at her gesture and taught her that she is supposed to grab his hand in response and shake it. Although their handshake exceeded normal length, they just sat their, holding the other's hand, looking deeply into each the other's eyes. Finnick slightly edged toward her, seeing how she would respond. She slightly leaned forward, telling him that it's okay to kiss her. He slowly leaned in and kissed her. In the Imaginationland's Annie's mind, fireworks exploded, flowers bloomed, and fires sparked. They deepened the kiss, little by little.

And then they sexed each other.

-Annie's Imaginationland End-

Annie gasped as soon as she came out of her daydream. Apparently she was just as horny as Finnick, just more subtle about it. Well, it **had** been hard trying to get sex out of her mind, seeing as that he stole her virginity a few days ago. She was desperate for him and needed to sex him up. Badly. Maybe if they spoke after the chariot rides, there might be a possibility of a kiss. But not much.

While she had been daydreaming, Finnick snapped out of his and had agreed with the stylist that it would be best for Annie to be a mermaid. The stylist began pulling out Annie's costume and applied light makeup. Finnick had already left to go see the other tribute. She was a bit sad that he had left without saying goodbye, but she found a small note sticking to her forehead.

Dear Miss Cresta,  
I hope you have fun in the chariot ride.  
Be brilliant!  
Love,  
Finnick Odair, **_your lover_**

He would be more subtle if he screamed his love for Annie from the top of the training center. She thought of ways to destroy the note without anyone knowing, and decided that eating the note was the best option. She ruled out just throwing it away because it would be possible that the trash was being monitored. She knew she was being paranoid, but it didn't hurt to be careful. Even though the Capitol was ready to kill her, one wrong move, and she would get rid of any chances of surviving. Although she didn't plan on leaving the arena alive, she still wanted a fighting chance. She wanted to show the Capitol that they didn't own her.

Finnick had the stylist right down the name of the guy tribute on his hand. He looked down in confusion as he saw the name 'Dylan' scrawled across his hand in neat, pretty cursive. It disgusted him how much the handwriting looked like the handwriting used to write the children's names for the tribute picking. He wondered whether or not she was the one that wrote all the names, but he knew that would take far too long for just one person to write.

This time, he knocked before entering the room. He instantly saw a boy a few years younger than him wearing the clothes of a greek god. When Finnick questioned the stylist why he was dressed like this, the stylist replied that he was supposed to be Poseidon, god of the sea. Although, Dylan didn't really look like Poseidon with his blond hair and lack of muscles. That's not to say that he didn't look good in his chiton, Finnick just doesn't swing that way.

"So you actually came to check on me," Dylan said, slightly surprised. "I thought that you would spend all day in Annie's room." He looked sad when he said 'Annie.' He definitely has a crush on her. No doubt about it. Too bad only one of them will be able to survive, and Finnick will make sure that's Annie. If not, he'll just give up on the games. "There's not much you can do in here so you can just leave."

Finnick knew that it was pointless to try to argue that he should be there because he really wasn't one to stay and stare at men's bodies, so he quickly left and escaped to his room before anyone found him and forced him to sleep with another hag.

When he got back to his room, he decided to take a nice, long shower. He knew how to work the various knobs so that he could get his skin to be satiny smooth, but he decided instead to pelt his skin with hot water for over a half-hour. Although he didn't have much time until the chariot rides, he decided to take his time. Since he was only a mentor, he didn't have to be there as early as the tributes. He took far too long in his shower and he didn't realize it until he heard the 6 o'clock bell ringing across the city. He rushed out of the shower, quickly changed, and sprinted to the nearest elevator. He prayed that he would be able to get to the stables as soon as possible, and, as if to answer his prayers, the double doors of the elevator opened and he ran in before it possibly closed. When he got in, he began mashing the 'Door Close' button as fast as he could. He managed to get to the Stables within five minutes.

When he got down there, he remembered that he did not actually need to be down there for the chariot rides, only for the interviews. He mentally slapped himself when he realized how stupid he is, although he did get the chance to see how beautiful Annie was. She looked exactly like how he imagined, except the sex god was instead Dylan. Finnick already loathed him. He wished he could be the one to protect Annie, but then he would probably fail. Like he did with her sister. Finnick thought to himself, _Why does my mind constantly go in circles, it's been like this for four years already!_

The chariot rides were a smash hit. But it disgusted Finnick to think that all of the men in the audience and in the Capitol were drooling over Annie. After he got Annie out of the arena, he would protect her from suffering the same fate as him. It was agonizing knowing that he wouldn't be able to help Annie to the fullest because he was busy being sold. He would talk to Annie at the first chance he got. His chance came sooner then expected.

Annie walked briskly up to Finnick. "I need to talk to you." God, he loved that spunk.

She dragged him into a closet, her mermaid costume still on. She glared at him when she noticed him staring at her chest. "Yes, those are my breasts," Annie told him. She didn't care how perverted he was, she still had a crush on him. She wasn't even able to understand why she still liked this perverted creep. She didn't have much to speak to him, she just needed to get rid of her want.

Finnick looked down at her with longing eyes. He wanted to kiss her, and nothing would stop him. He did. She kissed him back.

And then they sexed each other.

* * *

**All I can say is that I hope it wasn't explicit, because I honestly don't know how to _**

**I'll try not to take so long to write the next chapter!  
**


End file.
